


A Golden Day

by senatoramidala



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 09:48:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5823970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senatoramidala/pseuds/senatoramidala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cersei's first pregnancy, the Lannister twins' relationship during the early years of Robert's reign and a little bit of foreshadowing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Golden Day

“Yes, Jaime, yes, in me, spill it in me”, Cersei’s invitation rang hollow in his ears. Jaime could feel his head on the verge of bursting with blood, the pleasure too overwhelming to allow straight reasoning.  
He would scarcely care if his scalp split in half, sending his brains to paint King Robert’s walls in that very moment. He was inside Cersei, and Cersei was inside him. Together, they were one.  
Everything felt so right then, just like it must’ve been when they were still in the womb, clutched together, back when there wasn’t any Cersei or Jaime yet, just one whole perfect being.  
“Cersei, I am about to-” Jaime muttered under his breath. Cersei drew him further inside of her, in response. She mouthed her consent, in a way that aroused him all the more.  
It was a matter of a few thrusts, and he was finished. Jaime spilt himself in his sister, and for a moment everything was forgotten. The wedding none of them wanted, Robert fucking Baratheon, the heir he tried to put inside Cersei’s womb, their selfish controlling Father back in the Rock, and, of course, Lyanna Stark, the dead northern girl whom the king apparently still loved.  
Cersei had been furious as ever, and she could roughly tell him what had happened during the wedding night without throwing off whatever came under her grasp.  
“I shall have blood for this”, she had told him as soon as she came bursting into the White Tower’s chambers. He had given her seed instead, his own, although eluding his sworn brothers had been especially hard. Ser Barristan was as watchful as an old owl, and aging only seemed to make him more observant of his knights’ habits.

“Just say the word and I shall bring you his head on a silver plate, sweet Cersei”, Jaime said afterward, serious and calm as Father had ever been. Robert had slain Rhaegar Targaryen in single combat barely a fortnight ago, a warrior of rare skill, but Jaime Lannister was the man for him, he knew. He would have dared tread on the Warrior himself, to avenge Cersei’s honour.  
His sister was on her side of the bed, covered in nothing but a light silk sheet that left her right breast bare. The sight would not leave the blood in his veins cool down after the climax.  
“Don’t be foolish, I did not mean it earlier. I just let the rage get to my head”  
Cersei was pure wildfire though, all but soon to forget a slight such as the one that her husband had inflicted upon her, whispering the Stark girl's name in place of hers.

“We must be cautious”, she whispered, seeking Jaime’s limbs under the sheets, as she used to when they were both children at the Rock, and their Lady Mother still hadn’t caught them in the act of mimicking the awkward coupling of dogs.  
“Caution, sister? His Grace can count himself lucky if I don’t put a sword right through his heart every time I see him seeking your bedchambers, stumbling and stinking of wine.”  
He was the one letting the rage take over, this time. Could she blame him? The mere thought of that sot touching Cersei made the blood in his veins turn to wildfire.  
“Then you would be twice a Kingslayer, and thrice as stupid, brother” she was all wildfire, for sure, but something of their Lord Father lingered in the back of her voice as well.  
Their limbs met underneath the coverlets, and Cersei wrapped her arms around him, as tight as vines. She brushed him light on the lips, as to kiss him better from a wound. “Caution and patience will repay us both, believe me.”  
Jaime found that notion almost amusing. He knew full well that Cersei had none of either.  
“Robert shall never leave a heir into this world, and when the Stranger will come to give him his kiss, it’ll be our son to sit the iron throne in his stead.” Cersei’s words were as alluring and mischievous as her arms, clutching tighter around his waist.  
“A bastard?” Jaime murmured, astonished. His sister never ceased to surprise him, with her plots and her schemes. Sometimes he still wondered where she’d mastered that subtle art.  
Her nails dug softly into his back as she heard the slander.

“Not a bastard, you fool. Our son, the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms, a Lannister in all but name.”  
Jaime took a deep breath, resting in Cersei’s warmth. He never liked backstabbing and plotting, in truth.  
He would have much more appreciated a good honest blade in the chest, rather than a poisoned hideous goblet. But it was the Capitol’s way, and Cersei’s own bidding, which he could never defy.  
In the end, he knew she would have never let him be a father to the child, and the thought of a horned Robert proved more entertaining than that of a dead one.  
“Be it, then, we shall have our own son as we always said we would” he allowed, at last.  
Cersei’s grip around his waist tightened again, but in less than a second tables turned.  
Jaime was on top of her again, smirking and golden as a god. The Queen’s eyes were blinking in astonishment.  
“We better hurry and make sure we give the king his heir then.”

*****

The Queen had been radiant of late. Women at court dared to guess that she'd been with child for at least a fortnight now. Robert Baratheon knew better than to mistreat her now, especially in the presence of Tywin Lannister.  
"Why, Father, I know it shall be a boy. The King's trueborn child and heir." Cersei's eyes flickered as green embers in a brazier, her voice thick with pride.  
"My sweet sister has the right of it, Father. The gods shall prove merciful and grant our brave King a son, surely, with a cock as big as his father's ever was!" Tyrion japed, causing the King to burst in his typical roaring laughter.  
Jaime could feel both Cersei and Father's disapproving glances pinning the Imp down on his seat. But Tyrion never looked at them. His eyes were fixed on his big brother. He smiled at him, even as he was raising his toast to the king's manhood.

Jaime had always been the brave strong brother, and yet he couldn't help flinching at Tyrion's wicked eyes now. _Could it be that he..._  
The King left, after praising and damning the dwarf's wits to the Seven Hells, and Lord Tywin trailed after him. They and Jon Arryn had more pressing concerns to discuss than the Half-man's japes, he declared.  
The Lannister children were alone in the blink of an eye; Cersei and her dignified look, Tyrion with his mocking smirk, and Jaime sturdy in his white armour. Surely they were worth a toast too.

"You don't plan staying in King's Landing, I hope", the Queen had made it clear since they were all children that Tyrion's presence was an unpleasant gift to her. On that much, Father had always agreed with his daughter.  
As much as Jaime ever tried, he could never get them to like him, not even the slightest bit. He was past the point of caring now, though.  
The dwarf swayed on his chair, pouring himself another cup of wine. "No, Your Grace, rest assured. Father is most likely to escort me back to Casterly Rock as soon as he's done with the pressing matters and the King's small council.  
I know I shall weep rivers when I leave though. The Rock's whores are no match for the Capitol's!"  
Jaime smiled at his last jape, as he took a seat by his little brother's side.

"Quite an unexpected change of heart, little brother. To think that you even married a whore from Lannisport three years ago. What was her name again?", she studied Tyrion's face, in order to detect even the slightest hint of change in his unsightly features. Jaime had hoped to bury that old story forever, but Cersei always seemed well eager to bring it back to life. Tysha was the only weakness about Tyrion she had known of.  
The Imp's twisted face never gave anything away though, determined to deny his sister the pleasure to hurt him. "I do not deny that I might have had a soft spot for Western maids once, but I was an unexperienced youth back then. Besides, things have changed a great lot since you left the West for the comfort of the southron court, sweet sister."

Cersei stood abruptly to her feet. The chair behind her was knocked to the ground by the sudden shift. "How dare you! I shall have your twisted little tongue, you wretched thing!"  
Jaime steadied her hand with his own, drawing it closer to his chest. Cersei was quick to anger, and she saw slights even where there weren't any. "Cersei, he's our brother!" he found himself reminding her that for the hundredth time.  
Jaime regretted that move as soon as he met Cersei's eyes. Her lips were trembling and purple from the rage. She pulled his hand away. "I will not have him speak to me like that! I am the queen!"

"Let her, brother. She's the queen and she can do however she pleases now that she carries His Grace's son. I must warn you though, sister, you will not take much joy from my tongue.  
It is a dwarf's tongue and it has so many tales to tell... one too many, perhaps." Cersei and Jaime exchanged shocked looks. Tyrion took one more sip of wine from his cup. That was all the confirmation he needed.

"Are you threatening me, Imp?" Cersei rested one hand on the wooden table, and the other on her belly, still flat under the silks. She could not believe her ears, fool that she was. Tyrion could outwit them all. It had always been so.  
"I do not like you, Cersei, no more than you ever liked me, but I acknowledge that you are a queen and I just a dwarf, which means I am in no position to threaten you. Besides, I do love our dear brother Jaime as much as you do. I mean... _almost as much as you do_ , mind you. All the same, I would never want to see his head mounted on a spike, not even if it were beside yours."

A bewildered look struck Cersei's fair face. The Imp could talk them out of their small clothes if he wanted to. Jaime knew better than to engage in an argument with him. Swords fitted him better than wisecracks.  
His wits were as much a threat as they were a powerful means, and Jaime hoped that even Cersei would prove smart enough to recognize that.  
"I guess we all must hope that it shall never come to swords between us, then, must we not? You'll always find a loving brother in me, and a loyal friend, for you and my nephew, and I will cherish this secret deep within my heart, as if it were my own. You have my word."

"A dwarf's word, as false as fool's gold!" she hissed, resentful and contemptuous. Tyrion did not seem to mind her. "Now if you will excuse me, I must bid a proper farewell to my whores, before departing. You must forgive me if I don't come kissing your cheek as a good brother should, sweet sister, but I am afraid your lovely skin would crawl at the touch of my wormy lips."  
However, he leaned closer to Jaime and brushed him lightly on the right cheek. "I trust Her Grace shall be safe and well guarded with you by her side, big brother."  
Cersei witnessed the whole scene in cold, steady rage. Jaime took her in his arms as soon as they were alone, burying his face in her golden curls. "He will not betray us, you heard him. Our secret is safe with him."  
"You are a beautiful golden fool, ser", her voice was ice cold, but her skin hot to the touch, "to trust the creature who tore our Lady Mother's womb apart."

*****

As her time approached, every serving wench, septa and maester in the Red Keep grew restless. They all served the Queen on bended knee, eager to please her as ever. Jaime could sense Cersei getting more bad-tempered and fussy each passing day.  
The Lannister Queen had never been an easy mistress to serve, but nearly nothing would satisfy her demands latterly. One morning she had sent a serving girl weeping from the hall and rebuked her ladies-in-waiting harshly for every trifle. The man-at-arms, the squires and the stable boys in the yard would remark that "From the way she hisses, you would think that she had a wild cat quickening in her belly" or, "the sooner she delivers the babe, the sooner we will all be restored to our peace." Jaime had only to glare at them to hush them, but still he couldn't deny that there was some truth to their words.  
Even though Jaime could grow accustomed to Cersei's bad temper and unreasonable requests (for it never was a secret with her anyway), he knew that he could never look at her and expect not to find her slim and graceful as she'd always been.  
Her perfect body had broadened terribly in the past nine months, and all he wanted was for his sister to go back to normal, so that they could lay together again without the burden that made her always tired and awkward.

At last, Cersei's time came and she was brought to bed to deliver the King's firstborn. Robert Baratheon had ridden out to the kingswood with his huntsmen and hounds, leaving his wife and queen to face the travails of childbirth alone.  
For some reason that Jaime did not bother to figure out, one of the midwives came to inform him that the Queen his sister's waters had broken. It was an information for the child's father, now out to haunt, and not for him.  
He had no time to waste on that small detail, though. All he could think about was Cersei, suffering in a room where he was not allowed. Jaime pulled the maid aside, and rushed into the birthing room at once.  
Two guards watching the threshold crossed their spears to block his way. Cersei was calling for him behind this door, he could hear her. "No man but the Grand Maester is allowed inside, ser Jaime."  
Jaime Lannister laughed a laugh to shame even the gods, and then let it die down his throath. "And which of you brave men proposes to keep me out, I wonder?" His right hand fell to the hilt of his sword but he had no need to unsheathe it.  
The two guards exchanged a brief look, before silently recoiling their spears. He stamped past them to the Queen's rooms without as much as another word.

"Cersei!" He bellowed, dropping to his knees just about the bedpost. His twin was sweating profusely and gritting her teeth, her beautiful features were writhing in strain. There was a murmur of disapproval inside the chamber, since a man who was not the Grand Maester had broken the rules of the royal confinement. Jaime was way past the point of caring, though, and paid them no mind. His only concern was Cersei's safety. Her golden hair were plastered all over her white face, although a maid was wiping her forehead with a damp cloth. He did not hear the Grand Maester Pycelle when he ordered him to hold her up, for he already was keeping her steady in his arms anyway. His sister's lips were chapped where she had been biting them in order to endure the pain.  
It took the Queen a day and a half to bring the crown prince forth. The linen in which she lay was stained with blood and other hideous liquids that Jaime had no care to identify.  
"It is almost done, Your Grace. I can see the head! Be brave, just a little more." Pycelle urged, his wrinkly spotted hands between Cersei's thighs. Jaime could scarcely bear the absurdity of it all, but he was ready to, for Cersei's sake.  
"I am brave!", she cried out furiously. Her twin smiled at that, against her sweat-stained forehead. Of all the things that could be said of Cersei, she surely couldn't be charged with cowardice. She was a lioness, a match for any man.

And so the babe came into the world at last, kicking and screaming at the top of his little lungs. Jaime regarded the newborn with a perfunctory glance, as he kissed Cersei's forehead over and over, once that everyone had hysterically run out of the room to announce the birth of a beautiful prince to all the Seven Kingdoms.  
"Isn't he perfect?" Cersei rested against the pillows giggling like a little girl, her emerald eyes wet and proud at the sight of the little son she had birthed. She was a beauty beyond compare and Jaime could not take his eyes off of her. The tiny fellow feeding at her breast with a mop of golden hair on his little head was of small importance next to his mother.  
"The future king of Westeros..." The Queen whispered wonderingly to herself.  
"We will have others." Jaime's words came out a bit muffled against Cersei's warm skin. He could feel his manhood stir against his breeches already. "I will give you a thousand princes for the iron throne, if you wish."  
Cersei grinned softly and kissed him full on the lips. "This one will do for now. _The next shall be a princess._ "


End file.
